On the Winds of Change
by Legendary Swordsman
Summary: FE AU Female!Soren. As a little girl, Rin was abandoned at birth and left in an orphanage. By fortuitous chance, a man named Ike, appears and sees to it that she has a better home and a fresh start. With her adoptive father, she follows the winds of change and grows into a young woman. Peer into the life of Rin through a serious of vignettes, a few chapters of her lifestory.
1. Chapter 1: Branded

Author's note: This is a collection of vignettes written for an old English project. I altered names and locations (if there were any) to protect against copyright issues. So, one of the biggest changes was that I made Soren a girl named "Rin." Also, each chapter is based on a certain theme and stylized accordingly.

Disclaimer: I own only the plot and nothing else. The characters and their likeness belong to their respective owners.

Kudos to my bro, Renaissance7, for being my editor (back in the day when this was written - and still is 3).

* * *

**Branded **

Gawain . The last name I was given, something I gladly accepted for once. It makes me smile. Gawain . The name of the man who saved my life. It's something I can carry by my side, regardless of where I go. It's like my Father standing there beside me when he himself is not present. Gawain . It's my guardian that makes me proud to know I belong somewhere. Gawain , I belong to Ike Gawain, my Father.

And everything from Father is a gift. But what I don't understand is "_Annabelle_", my middle name – the one he personally chose for me. He says it means "love", something he hopes I will always receive, something I'll want. To me, Annabelle is just Annabelle as a stone is simply a stone. "In time, you'll understand." he says, always patting my head with a chuckle. But as the years go by, I still question Father about "_Annabelle_". What could be so special about it? Why, when it just means Annabelle.

As for my name? It's nothing more than a label if you ask me. It's simply a word; no more, no less. It means "nothing", it means "worthless". It isn't me. It doesn't belong to me. I'm not the only person to call it mine. It's something hollered, like some obscenity, used to get my attention. The same sound you'd hear when the wind bellows its muffled cries. The soft, silent, slither of one syllable released into the air just to be drowned by Mother Nature and her booming voice. It means a person abandoned, left for dead at the hands of the street. Cold. Alone. Sorrowful. That is the weight that lies on my shoulders. Something I will forever bear. Rin. A name branded. Unheard. Disregarded. Without purpose.


	2. Chapter 2: Starlight

**Starlight **

_Everyone is like a star._

They say I'm all alone in space, in my own world, distant from everyone else. People think I accept seclusion with welcome arms. People believe I want to be left unaccompanied as if I'm noxious waste. People deem me a "recluse".

_Everyone is like a star._

But do they not see the starlight? I am surrounded by a family of stars brighter than the Sun. All filled with laughter, joy, and love. I am accompanied by their compassion, the fuel to my life. I am not alone, but a star surrounded by many. Family. They are my friends, my people, and the world to me. I'm never alone. Not when I have them.

_Everyone is like a star._

"I'm as bright as a star!" I recall people smirking at me, casting sidelong glances of amusement.

I, without a doubt, full heartedly agree. These people who think they are better than others are bright as stars, dwarf stars. Acting like fools who can do everything when they can't! Dull as ever, over shadowed by someone more worthy of the name "Shining Star". Most everyone around me is dim, not bright in the slightest. Especially Elincia! She's always thinking about the best in people – no, humanity – ever the optimist, always smiling from the moment I first saw her. That ill-fated day that she moved into _Father's_ home, because she needed a place to stay and Father can't ever say "No". Not to anyone, particularly with a face who literally begs for charity.

But how? How in the world can she ignore the heartless people who dispose of children! Those murderers who ruin the chances for life? People who aren't as fortunate as I am, their plights fallen on deaf ears, forever waiting and waiting in the dark to be liberated from torture? Is she blind to what they do to other people!

Ellie and everyone else are full of themselves, yet lacking the essentials of life: a brain, a heart, a soul. These people, Elincia, strangers – everyone one is dense, desperate, and delusional.

_Everyone is like a star. They all shine, fizzle, and die cold and alone._


	3. Chapter 3: Snowfall

**Snowfall**

_Dignified. Severe. Cold. I am Rin._

That is what it means. This is what I am. Rin, I am soft, fragile, and soundless as snowfall.

I am pure, unique, and one of a kind like a snowflake's design as it descends from the great aether. Gently floating on the wind, observing everything all around as I drift and drift until I "land". Still fresh and young, I'm trying to find my meaning in life like fresh snow from the sky looking for a place to settle, build, and grow.

I am the white sheet of nature, bitterly cold but ever calm like the still icy waters until disturbed. My emotions is an unstoppable avalanche, uncontrollable; tears, anger, happiness, it's all a haze at times. Stirred, my feelings rupture, hazardous as a blizzard to the unprepared. My wrath is a whirling tempest, my howls of pain and sorrow like freezing rain, the searing intensity that emits from me like a snowstorm at its peak.

I am hushed, silenced, unheard yet ever present like the chill of winter air. Impressionable like the frozen tundra beneath the feet of many, constantly stepped on and abused by those who think they're so "high and mighty". Crushed under the power of the selfish beings who want to collect and control me like snow compressed into a sphere, only to be tossed away without a second's thought letting me smash into the ground to be trampled all over once more. Until someone comes to me, seemingly out of nowhere, scooping me up in their arms, rebuilding me anew like a snowman. Almost like a chance for redemption in life for a sin I did not commit. These people nurture me as if I really was their child, shaping and crafting me like a snow angel, a snow angel who has just found heaven.

Some say I'm chilled to the core, but what does that matter to me? Others think I'm kind-hearted and giving. Sure, they can believe whatever they want to believe. But I am who I am.

_Dignified. Severe. Cold. I am Rin._


	4. Chapter 4: A Different Perspective

**A Different Perspective **

Eyes are the windows to an empty void, a book with white pages. They are the keys to doors that open nothing, an entrance that never existed. People live only to live, simply existing because they do. And with each countless passerby, it becomes apparent why there's nothing to see in them, like a blind spot. Every person is the same, none different.

However, there are a rare few, the exceptions, who share and shed a beacon of light into this cruel world. They are the people who took me, a stranger, under their wing as one of their own. A person like me, abandoned as an unwanted infant, discarded as an unnecessary human. The comfort I so longed for whilst I waited and waited for someone to rescue me… finally appeared...

Father.

It was him. He was the one who appeared in front of me, his eyes unchanging. Full of life like Mother Earth herself and giving as the atmosphere that surrounds it, they're still the same even now, years later. Yes, those dark cerulean guards. I remember, everyday, he would look at me and wrap me in the warm sunlight of his gaze. And with one quick glance, he granted me: Security. It was like another form of love, love who would reach out, touch the heart; a serenade, soothing a broken soul. Something everyone would want, something a parent would want a child to have.

It was all present in his eyes. It was love.

_Love…_


	5. Chapter 5: Little Birdie

**Little Birdie**

_Plop!_

A blue of orange vanished inteo the ebony nest in front of me. Immediately, I stood on my toes, trying to take a peek at this strange anomaly. I kept staring and staring, only to receive a quizzical look from Father. So, I stoof silently waiting for a better view. And once Father turned back to his tool shed... I saw it.

Nestled in his hair was a little bird.

"_Daddy! There's something on your heard!_" I squealed.

Slowly, Father turned his attention to a fluffy creature nesting in his blue hair. Gradually, he carefully raised his arms above his head, cupping the bird gently in his calloused hands. He lowered it to eyelevel, wondering what was in his palms. Suddenly, he began flipping and turning the feathery ball with a finger as if he was inspecting a solid cintrine gem.

"_Father! What are you doing!? You're going to hurt, Birdie!_"

In response to my small outburst, he chuckled,. Smiling down at his knee, where I stood tugging on his pant legs, he reassured me he was only checking the poor thing for injuries. After all, the little one _did_ take a rough landing on his "thicker-than-average skull." Sure, it did. But I believed him then, and even now I still do. Besides, he knew what he was doing from the very start. However, this was different. _Very_ different.

"_A tufted-mouse._" he simply said.

I knew well the distinction between roden and bird: one scurries on the ground to and fro all around; and the other flies high in the blue, cloudless sky. Mouse. Bird. Two dissimilar animals. I was surprised Father called _it_ a "mouse." I must have been wrong! Absolutely wrong. Where? Where did I go wrong? I started racking my mind, unable to see my mistake.

I looked up into his eyes in confusion, hoping he could enlighten me on the error of my ways, "_Father, I-I thought it was a bird... Why didn't you tell me sooner it was a mouse?_"

All I was awarded was another chuckled and a smirk planted on his face. The amusement evident in his eyes as he kneeled in front of me; something was obviously wrong. And this time, it wasn't me. He motioned his eyes to the animal, so I returned my attention to his hand in front of me. And then he told me. He told me it wasn't a mouse, it wasn't a bird - not just any bird, he meant - it was:

"_A tufted-mouse chickadee._" he smiled at me as if he was the sun, I the plant.

Bathed in warm sunlight and surrouned by soft chips of birds, I leaned forward and pecked him on the nose. Father always knew best.


	6. Chapter 6: Life in the Gutters

**Life in the Gutters **

Chuckling, Father leaned over and kissed my forehead as I giggled childishly while petting the orange ball, now chirping in my tiny hands.

"_Morning!_" a familiar voice sounded. "_Why are you all up in the gutters?_"

He then turned to look at the person behind him as I leaned to the side, trying to get a glimpse of whoever it was past Father's body as if I was spying. Father, smiling, responded with his simple greeting of "_Hey there_." However, I had no intentions of replying – I never did anyways – since my attention was needed elsewhere. My priority currently was Father as well as my newfound feathery companion, a fluffy fledgling.

But then, it finally registered in my mind… "_In the gutters?_" Really now? Me and Father were perfectly content, even Little Birdie was happy! What in the world is _she_ talking about? In front of us stood my aunt – five years junior to my Father who was twenty five at the time – who's possibly one of the most "_bubbly_", as Father puts it, people I will ever meet. And now she's talking nonsense. Gutters... Oh, please. But to my surprise though, she wasn't even looking at the both of us. She was facing another direction, staring at Father's tool shed. Odd. It was rather odd of her to do so. She, in spite of everything, is a simple person, but not _that_ simple – though I might just have underestimated her this time. Regardless, it was stranger even more so when she approached it as if it was responding to her very voice. Then I heard it. The shed was chirping back at her like a chorus of wind chimes fluttering in the breeze.

"_Ike! Look what I've found! They're so cute! Hee hee. Come quick! You're going to love this…" _my aunt beckoned and called.

Father replied, "_Mist? What is it?"_

Promptly, he hoisted me onto his left shoulder as "Little Birdie" occupied the other. Father then strolled swiftly over to Aunt Mist, who stood looking up at the six-foot-tall utility shack. Instantly, we saw what she was talking about. It was a family of feathery oranges, all chirping about on Father's tool shed... in the gutter. Now I understand what Aunt Mist said... Birds "_all up in the gutters._" She actually meant it literally.

Immediately, I turned to Father as if I was looking for guidance to see what he was going to do about this "problem". However, Aunt Mist urged him to leave the nest as is, to allow the birds to live in the gutter of his tool shed. She gave Father that desperate look he couldn't refuse. He stood still and firm, analyzing the situation before letting out a long sigh. Father began laughing, shaking his head accusingly at Little Birdie and its family as it squeaked in defense.

"_Trouble makers…_"hebegan before turning to me."_You three babies, what am I going to do with all of you?_"

All three of us gave him a peck on the cheek, one way or another.


	7. Chapter 7: Morning Mist

**Morning Mist**

"Good morning, Rin." Aunt Mist greeted me as our paths crossed. "Slept well?"

Her voice was the only sound that echoed in the living room as I walked by - as if she was a ghost, nonexistent in this world. I made no attempt, not even once for the past twelve years since we were introduce, in responding to her foolish salutations and kept with my long strides towards my bedroom. Ever persistent, she questioned how I was feeling. Of course I felt fine! There's absolutely nothing for her to worr about, let alone me. I'm fifteen, independent, and much more capable of taking care of myself. Furthermore, a married woman at the age of twenty-seven should be old enough to tell when someone wants to be left alone for a while. So, I retreated to my room, much like a turtle would with its shell, until noon without a word.

Eventually, I opened my door to find something for lunch, since everyone else had already finished. I saw Aunt ist standing with a plate of food. What does she think she's doing this time around? I can get my own food. Plus, isn't everyone else finished with their meals by now? Any who, I tactically accepted what she offered just to make her leave me be. If not, she would just stand there knocking until I took it anyway. Fortunately, I caught on quick after the first few encounters for she had the patience to test a rock! but, I _was_ hungry... so I guess there was no harm done in taking some food.

Given that it was the weekend, I continued comfortabl in my own vicinity, no interruptions whatsoever as I sat like a bird perched by the windowsill reading my book, back against the wall. Speaking of birds, I haven't seen Little Birdie for a while. I turned towards the window to the star-painted sky; it was nightfall already? Suddenly, my eyes fixated on Aunt Mist outside the backyard. Seriously? At this late of an hour, she's out _there_ doing what!? And with that, I left my cozy domain to venture out into the back to check on my aunt.

As I marched down the stair case, Aunt Mist was seated in the kitchen. Acknowledging my presence, she looked up with a worried expreession, as if her own hcild had been injured. Instantly, I began interrogating Aunt Mist on the issue. She told me she was completing her daily rountine for the past six years of ensuring Little Birdie's safety by the tool shed. But when she entered the back yard, she felt something was definitely out of place. From listening to that one statement, I shivered as my face paled; it was worse that it seemed. Continuing, Aunt Mist said that her woman's intuition was in play as she saw the family of orange birds chirping wildly, calling out for help. She ran around looking with a flashlight and shook her head in disbelief as she found clumps of feathers littered on the patio by the bushes. She feared the worst when she saw the neighbor's cat, Ranulf, wandering around in plain view.

Something clicked in my mind as if on cue: Aunt Mist, up at this time, her concerned expression, her story... Then, it hit me. It hit me square in the face. Little Birdie! Oh no.. My heart sank, falling into an endless abyss, aching to know if my poor bird - my friend - was... I wasn't even there to help or say my good-byes. Tears began to well up in my eyes as I found no strength left to control myself. I couldn't. Not after hearing what happened to Little Birdie.. I didn't know what to do... Not without my friend.

Aunt Mist pulled me over, comforting, consoling me, and asking how I was feeling. I couldn't believe she was asking me this question now! Especially at a time like this; Little Birdie and I were best friends! One of the only few who accepted me for who I am, we understood each other deeply despite our differences.

"Rin," she whispered. "Little Birdie is fine."

Those words echoed in my head. What did she just say? Little Birdie? Fine? Alive? I gasped as the words finally resonated with me. She said... Little Birdie was fine.

I watched her disappear into the hallway before coming back with a small basket where Little Birdie slept from exhaustion. She tenderly lifted the full-grown bird into her palms as if it was a baby. And then, she showed me the surgical tape wrapped around Little Birdie's right wing. I let out a long sigh - almost as I literally drowned in my own worries - before taking in a breath of fresh relief.

Aunt Mist extended her hand and slowly transferred the bird into my own. I held Little Birdie and locked eyes with my aunt. The act of kindness shown through her eyes, all I could barely say was a word or two of gratitude for saving Little Birdie's life. She giggled patting my back. I couldn't help but return a small smile after all the trouble and strife we've been through. At that moment, Little Birdie decided to "pipe" in.

Next, Aunt Mist all of a sudden said she took care of Little Birdie, because she knew how much she (the bird) meant to me. And she believed that I needed someone like Little Birdie to keep me company. She felt that if something like this were to ever hapen, she had to be there to help. So, she spent time from dawn to dusk making sure my bird was safe by the gutters.

"Now, don't say I'm 'Practicing what I preach,' because I really preach what I practice. So, just give me a moment of two and listen up. Sometimes, you hae to put yourself in front of others," Aunt Mist spoke. "For the ones you love. For the people you care about. For the people that matter most to you. That includes everyone and everything. As for me, you're one of those people. But for now, you and your bird best run along and get some sleep."

It was another fresh start, the dawn of a new day... I felt content, pleased... just happy when I woke up. Aunt Mist taught me a valuable lesson yesterday as I watched Little Birdie in the basket next to me. As I made my way downstairs for breakfast, I stopped. I turned on my heels and made sure Little Birdie was on the road to recovery and healthier than she was last night.

When I reached the kitchen, I saw Aunt Mist waiting for me with a bowl of cereal. Fate had it, our paths crossed once more, but this time it was different.

"Morning, Mist."


	8. Chapter 8: Sanctuary

**Sanctuary**

Someday, I want to see the world from where I stand. yes, on my own, by mself, in this raw world of man. Not replying on Father, yet still close by. Not anyone, but me, myself, and I. Be it relaxing in a marble castle, or living in a garden grove of greend beds, perhaps even a plain place made of wooden beams, or once again by Father's stead. Something simple is what I aim for, since in the end, it's all the same. It will be something I can call my own. Because I know it is _I_ that makes it home, Like Father once said.

Though, I'm not sure when this day will truly come; but whenever the moment arrives like the promise of dawn's passing, I will find a place to call "home."

_My home._

A sanctuary as calsm as the spring air.


End file.
